Chapter 294: Harry's First Mission

When Harry and Mr. Weasley came out of Black's old house together, there was just a faint light in the sky. Looking up, it was gray, the air seemed to be soaked by night dew, and there was a chill in the early morning.

The two walked in staggered steps, gently walked around the square, and walked outside the residential area.

"Where is the Ministry of Magic? How do we get there?" After taking two silent steps, Harry asked suddenly as if he wanted to loosen his tense nerves.

"No one knows the exact location, but it's somewhere deep underground... Staff like us usually apparate to work," Mr. Weasley explained casually, "but obviously you don't."

"Also, we'd better go there through the visitor's entrance. After all, you are going to be judged. It's better not to use magic if you can, so as not to leave a bad impression on those normal Ministry of Magic staff."

Mr. Weasley walked with one hand thrust into his jacket, and Harry knew he must be holding his wand in that hand.

There was almost no one on the dilapidated street, and the floor tiles were a little wet, as if there had been a light rain last night.

But when they walked into the shabby and unremarkable subway station, they found that it was already full of Muggle commuters going to work in the morning.

Mr. Weasley has always been particularly fond of Muggles and Muggle mechanical products, which is the biggest reason why he stayed in the "Misuse of Muggle Articles" without complaint.

Now that they were both, it was no wonder that he had a bit of a hard time suppressing his intense interest - he always found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business.

"It's incredible," he said excitedly, pointing to the automatic ticket machine in front of him, "It's amazing!"

"It's broken." Harry pointed to the sign.

"Really? But even so, still..." Mr. Weasley said, looking at the malfunctioning ticket machines with fondness.

"We've got to buy tickets... I mean, Mr. Weasley..."

Harry had to tug at Mr. Weasley to get him to look away from the ticket machines.

"Mr Weasley," said Harry resignedly, "look! We've got to buy tickets—"

"Oh!" Mr. Weasley turned around and suddenly said, "Yes, buy a ticket! I probably remember that..." He said, took out a handful of pounds from his pocket, looked them over and over again, "Uh...although I've been thinking about it, I still can't tell the face value of these Muggle currency..."

"Let me do it!" Harry reached out and took the colorful handful of pounds, then looked up and asked, "By the way, where should we go?"

"Central London," Mr. Weasley replied immediately, "well, if I remember correctly - it was my first time going through the visitor's entrance, too."

Hearing what Mr. Weasley said, Harry couldn't help praying from the bottom of his heart, hoping he wouldn't be late because he couldn't find the entrance!

They bought subway tickets from a sleepy concierge, and five minutes later they boarded the subway. The old subway carried them, bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang toward central London.

In the subway car, Mr. Weasley checked the subway map on the window again and again; Harry carefully put his right hand into the left sleeve, and then quickly pulled it out again.

On his face, an inexplicable expression flashed faintly for a moment.

"Four stations to go...Harry has three stations to go now...Two stations to go, Harry..."

Under Mr. Weasley's curious and nervous chanting, the surrounding Muggle passengers all looked at him suspiciously. Apparently his nervous muttering was loud enough to be noticeable.

"Mr. Weasley, you won't miss the site, we just need to sit down." Harry couldn't help it anymore, so he lowered his voice and reminded, "They're all looking at you!"

"Oh! Really?" Mr. Weasley immediately pulled his eyes back from the road map and looked around, "To be honest, I really want to make some Muggle friends..."

They got off at a stop in central London.

Of course, the subway platform in the city center was bustling and crowded. There was a flood of people here. Harry and Mr. Weasley were pushed out of the subway by countless well-dressed men and women carrying briefcases.

"Oh! If I didn't know that Muggles don't have magic, I would really think this is a magic staircase." Standing on the escalator with Harry, Mr. Weasley admired without losing the opportunity.

"Wow! This little thing is awesome!"

When they passed through the turnstile of the ticket gate, Mr. Weasley, who personally experienced the ticket being swallowed by the ticket gate, even couldn't help clapping his hands with a smile on his face.

It was broad daylight when they left the subway station and came to a broad street.

There are majestic and magnificent buildings on both sides of the street, various shops along the street and large billboards are colorful, and the street is already full of traffic.

"What is this place?"

Standing on the side of the street, watching the crowds and vehicles coming and going, Mr. Weasley had a dazed expression on his face.

"what?"

Harry thought they'd gotten off at the wrong station despite Mr. Weasley's constant checking of the Tube map, and his heart stopped.

But fortunately, Mr. Weasley said immediately afterwards: "Ah! Oh... By the way, this way, Harry."

As he said that, he turned around and led Harry forward for a certain distance, and then turned into a fork in the street.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said excitedly, unlike Harry's nervousness, "I've never taken the subway! Besides, from a Muggle perspective, everything is completely different."

"...Honestly, I almost thought I had become a Muggle!"

They continued to walk forward, and the buildings on both sides of the street were generally much lower. This is the case in both the wizarding world and the Muggle world. When people deviate from the area where money is concentrated, mediocrity and even crudeness are the main tone of the world at present.

At last they came to a bleak side street with a few seedy-looking offices, a tavern, and a dump truck that was overflowing.

On the opposite side, there is a small parking lot where only a dilapidated private car is parked.

Harry had thought the Ministry of Magic was in a much grander place! It seems that they are still considering avoiding too much contact with Muggles.

"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley cheerfully, pointing to a dilapidated red telephone box - with several pieces of glass missing.

The back of the phone booth was clinging to a badly painted wall.

With a casual glance, Harry also saw some small rectangular stickers on the wall. The pictures on the stickers made him blush, and then he looked away with difficulty.

"You go in first, Harry." Mr. Weasley stepped forward, reached out and opened the door of the telephone booth.

Harry walked in suspiciously. When he was suspicious, Mr. Weasley squeezed in and stood beside him, and closed the door behind his back.

It's so crowded in here!

Harry was squeezed against the wall-mounted pay phone, which hung askew from the wall, as if some vandal had tried to rip it off.

Mr. Weasley reached over Harry's shoulder and managed to pick up the receiver of the phone.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry couldn't help it, "I think the phone might be broken too..."

"No, no, the Ministry of Magic will send people to regularly inspect and maintain important magic items like this." Mr. Weasley said, raising the microphone above his head, looking at the rotary dial, "Let me think... "

"This... well, next is this... and this, and this..."

As the dial was turned "clicking" again and again, and then reset automatically, an indifferent female voice sounded from the phone booth.

But Harry felt that the voice did not come from the microphone Mr. Weasley was holding, it was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman was standing beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and reason for your visit."

"Huh?" Mr. Weasley looked at the receiver in his hand, then at the crooked telephone, obviously not sure where to speak.

After hesitating for a while, he still put the receiver on his lips, and said: "Arthur Weasley, Department of Misuse of Muggle Substances - he is here with Harry Potter, the Ministry asked him to come on trial."

"Thank you," said the indifferent female voice, "guest, please pick up the badge and pin it to your front."

With a jingle, Harry saw a small object slip out of the metal slot in the coin tray.

He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with the words 'Harry Potter, on trial' written on it.

The woman's voice sounded again as Harry held the badge to the T-shirt.

"Visitor of the Ministry of Magic, you will need to be checked and register your wand at the security desk - which is at the end of the main hall."

Before the words fell, the ground of the phone booth suddenly shook, leading them slowly sinking into the ground.

Harry watched in amazement as the sidewalk rose higher and higher outside the glass partition of the phone booth, and soon it was pitch black and nothing could be seen.

In the darkness, only the ear-piercing grinding sound that continued to linger in their ears proved that they were still moving. But if he asked whether he was still moving vertically now, Harry couldn't answer at all.

It took about a minute or so, but it felt much longer than that.

Harry couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when a thin golden light fell on Harry's feet.

Then, the golden light gradually widened and extended to his body. Soon, Harry had to squint his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

After the indifferent female voice finished her last sentence, the door of the phone booth slammed open. Mr. Weasley went out first, followed by Harry, who could hardly close his mouth from ear to ear in amazement at the scene around him.

But even so, he subconsciously touched his sleeve.